


Heart-shaped

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Mòrag wants to know about that mark on Brighid's forehead.





	Heart-shaped

**Author's Note:**

> happy pride month!!! my brain is soup in summer weather so this is all i can get out

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No—“ Mòrag says, and she turns away when she realizes she’d been _staring._ How unbecoming of her. But, all the same, Brighid never particularly minds, so Mòrag brings her gaze back to focus. “I was only… thinking.”

“As you always are.”

“Not about work.”

“Oh? That’s new.” Brighid is combing out her hair, already dressed in nightclothes and ready to turn in. Her hair falls in loose strands over her shoulders, the embers joining the flames along her arms; she’s less severe like this, when they’ve been afforded the privilege of having a room to themselves for tonight. She never seems to let down her hair buns in the presence of other company, otherwise. “Dare I guess— you’ve been thinking about me.”

Mòrag scratches her neck and nods.

“That’s sweet of you, Lady Mòrag.”

“More specifically…” She lifts a hand and vaguely gestures. “That mark upon your forehead. I’ve rarely ever seen it in full.”

Without another word (because she surely can’t begrudge Mòrag’s curiosity) she stands, setting down the brush and making her way over to the bed where Mòrag had been sitting and waiting for her. She brushes her hair back from her forehead, and Mòrag hesitantly brings her fingers up. But doesn’t touch.

“It’s heart-shaped,” she murmurs.

“Mmh.”

“Does it have any sort of meaning, Brighid?”

She pretends to think for a moment, allowing her hair to partially cover the mark again. With a completely straight face, she says: “It’s a symbol of my everlasting devotion to my Driver.”

And she can practically see Mòrag’s eyes light up at the same time she pulls her hand back, no doubt conflicted between flattery and residual jealousy of knowing she’s not the first to wield the whipswords.

Mòrag clears her throat. “I certainly wasn’t aware… no records nor texts had ever recorded such a thing. But, no doubt, such a matter should be rightfully kept privy between Blade and Driver… and few other souls would ever glimpse that mark in its full shape, with your hair naturally covering most of it at other times…” She steels herself and nods, and gently cups Brighid’s face between her palms. Mòrag’s gaze is warm, and with just two fingers, she traces upward and feels those scorching marks above Brighid’s brow.

“Thank you for sharing such sentiment with me, Brighid.”

Damnit. Brighid can’t keep her composure after a heartfelt speech like that. She breaks out into a stifled chuckle and covers Mòrag’s hands with her own.

“I was _kidding_.”

“—Pardon?”

“The mark doesn’t mean anything. It would be like asking why Dromarch has stripes or why Pandoria has a tail,” Brighid says, refusing to allow Mòrag to get away to save her precious dignity. “I didn’t think you’d actually believe that!”

“B-But of course,” Mòrag says, and oh, now she sounds _offended._ She tries to move away, but Brighid has a firm grip on both wrists. “I would believe anything you tell me. What sort of Driver would I be if I didn’t trust you with all my being?”

And now she sort of wants to cry. But instead, she just sighs. It’s a fond sigh, no doubt about it, but Brighid feels something else welling up. Something… ah, it must be guilt, with a hint of shame.

She pulls them both backwards onto the mattress, lying beside Mòrag.

“Why must you be so _earnest_ , Lady Mòrag?” She quickly places a finger over her lips. “No, don’t say anything. You’ll completely break me down if you do.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Brighid says, and she exhales in relief when Mòrag continues touching her face. So she isn’t upset, at least. Good. “I’ll stop teasing you like that.”

Mòrag frowns. “Entirely?”

“Unless you enjoy it?”

“Well, I do appreciate your sense of humor, Brighid.”

“There you go, being earnest again.” She nestles in close and smiles, when Mòrag brushes her hair back and presses a kiss to the center of that heart-shaped mark.


End file.
